


The itch, the scratch

by figaro



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, size difference kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figaro/pseuds/figaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason thinks of Tim and can't help but jack off. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	The itch, the scratch

It wasn’t that Tim was small, exactly. No, he was  _compact_ and _…_ tiny, really. Alright, so Tim was kinda small; wiry, hard little body; slender, strong,  _strong_  little hands. Beautiful little mouth. Gorgeous little  _dick_.   
  
Jason smiled to himself, settling down more comfortably on his beaten up old couch, unbuttoning his jeans with one hand, bringing a beer bottle to his mouth with his other, taking one last swig before putting the bottle down on the floor.   
  
Yeah, gorgeous little dick, slender and curved, pale just like the rest of Tim, until he got to that point of arousal where it flushed a deep rosy pink. Tim didn’t leak much, but the little precome he did produce coated the head (Jason always made sure of it, rubbing his callused thumb in gentle circles, round and round until he had Tim whimpering in his arms), making the color there deeper, almost ruddy.   
  
What Jason wouldn’t give to have that pretty dick in his hand right now. He was never happier to have big hands than when he could use them on Tim. He loved watching his fist almost swallow Tim’s dick when he had it in a firm grip; loved jerking Tim off like that, using all of his hand, every callus, every rough spot of skin working Tim into a frenzy, driving him higher and higher until he almost  _growled_  and starting pumping into Jason’s fist, fucking it, grabbing Jason wherever he could to get the best leverage to work his hips, always slow and rough at first, then whippet-fast, hands slipping clinging grabbing scratching, trusting Jason to keep him steady as he lost it.   
  
Fuck, the look on Tim’s face when he came… Jason lifted his ass off the couch, hooking his thumbs in the waist of both jeans and boxer briefs, and tugged them down, over his knees, kicking and wriggling until he could spread his thighs wide. He sank back down on the cushions, slid both hands up his inner thighs, tilting his head back and groaning quietly. He wanted Tim there with him, wanted him spread over his lap, back turned to him, so he could have Tim’s head resting on his shoulder, and could rub up against his sweet little ass while feeling him up. Jason wouldn’t even tease—much. Just play a little with Tim’s nipples, maybe work his sac, grab his hips and fuck against his ass a little, and then get him off nice and hard.   
  
Jason groaned again. He looked down at himself, watched his dick twitch as he reached for it, giving it a little hello squeeze back before he started stroking.   
  
Jason leaked a lot more than Tim. He already had a shiny spot on his belly where his dick had rested, and when he slid his hand up, squeezing again, a nice little dribble wet the ‘o’ of his thumb and index finger. He brought his hand to his mouth, licked the precome off and took a moment to marvel, as he always did, over the fact it tasted almost exactly like Tim’s come; mild, almost sweet, with just a touch of salt. Mm. The reminder gave him more than enough reason to go back to stroking himself; setting up a steady, slow rhythm as he closed his eyes and gave himself up to memories of sucking Tim off. He could take Tim easily, all the way down, and he always did. He’d made it a gamble of sorts, making bets with himself how long it would take before Tim gave up all pretenses of control or plain courtesy and started fucking Jason’s mouth. And somehow, Jason always won. Even when he lost.   
  
One memorable time Tim had even grabbed Jason by the ears, making nice little growling noises as he’d fucked his way in, the head rubbing over the back of Jason’s tongue, making him swallow over and over not to drool.   
  
Tim had been fucking  _rude_  that one time. He’d pulled out as he was about to come, had grabbed a handful of Jason’s hair, and jerked off in Jason’s face.   
  
It had been so fucking  _sweet_.   
  
He’d dropped to his knees afterwards, rubbing the come in with shaky fingers, licking it off the corner of Jason’s eye, panting as Jason jacked himself off in a furious pace, too turned on for words, and murmuring something, nothings, almost purring as Jason came all over his belly and cock. And since fair was only fair, Jason had cleaned Tim up, using his tongue. It had been enough for Tim to grow a semi, enough to give Jason something to really  _work_  with and… It had been a night consisting of one, long, sweet-ass chain reaction, going on and on until Tim had actually passed out on top of Jason.   
  
It had been one of the best nights in Jason’s life.   
  
He grinned to himself, working his cock a little faster, a little rougher; the flashback pushing him from wanting to come to  _needing_  to come.   
  
He soaked himself in memories; rolled around in them; pictured Tim’s face at the height of arousal, when he looked almost tortured; heard his voice go from quiet and pleased to sharp and desperate; felt his strong little hands working his cock, sliding over his skin, mapping out scars and muscles and bone; felt his sharp little teeth at the joint of his neck and shoulder, digging in hard enough to bruise, if not break the skin; tasted his mouth, his thin, pretty lips, his sneaky, quick little tongue; felt Tim’s  _eyes_  on him—always focused, calculating,  _seeing_  Jason. Except for when they glazed over and rolled back in his head and fluttered closed.   
  
Tim…   
  
 _Tim_.   
  
With something almost like a whimper, Jason came, hips and hand working at breakneck speed as he shot off, hard and  _hard_ ; hitting his fucking  _chin_ , painting his chest and belly in an almost perfectly straight line leading down to his crotch where a final, weak dribble rolled down the knuckle of his thumb and stained his pubes.   
  
Jesus fuck.   
  
Jason’s chest heaved like a bellows as he brought his hand up to his mouth and absentmindedly licked it clean, focusing on bringing down his pulse and gathering the scattered remains of his brain enough to be able to make something like a coherent thought.   
  
That had been…   
  
Jason enjoyed jerking off—it was a good pastime and an excellent way to rid himself of stress—but he rarely, if ever, came hard enough to go stupid from it.   
  
Fucking Tim.   
  
Jason chuckled softly, giving his hand one final lick, tasting nothing more than spit, before reaching down to tug his pants back up and grabbing the beer bottle while at it. He downed the dregs of it, now lukewarm and flat, just to wet his mouth, which had gone as dry as it did when Tim showed off for him, when—

  
Fucking  _Tim_.   
  
God  _damn_  that kid. Always  _getting_  to him. He’d settled in nicely under Jason’s skin, alright, always present right under the surface, always at the back of Jason’s mind, just waiting to spring on him with images and memories.   
  
Jason had no problem admitting he’d fallen for the kid. Heck, he’d fallen hard enough it hurt. But this edged closer to obsession in Jason’s book and that wasn’t really cool, but it was… It was. What it was. And that was that.   
  
Another chuckle, rueful and a bit hoarse. Jason rolled the beer bottle over his forehead, as if to cool it.   
  
Fucking Tim.   
  
  



End file.
